


Devils in White

by RBCQ



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Drug Abuse, F/F, Lesbian AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-09-03 02:10:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8692354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RBCQ/pseuds/RBCQ
Summary: White means purity - at least, says the matron of St. Mary's Home for Wayward Girls. It means a sort of cleanliness of mind, body, and spirit that the troubled girls she takes in need desperately. Prayer, order, and purity were the medicines by which she believed herself able to heal even the sickest girl's mind, returning her home a newly formed angel, to bestow upon her family only the best version of herself. The one thing she overlooks, though: what can be done when a devil shrouds herself in white and pretends?





	1. Prologue

o.

 

They were an odd assortment, the ten of them, scattered around the dim basement in various states of intoxication. The light was on, but the nearly-burnt-out bulb didn't do much other than cast sharp shadows across faces and make the smoke filling the room look thicker. They were silent with a sort of shared tiredness that only comes with a wearily-carried burden, a shared exhaustion that laid its serpentine coils around the necks of every girl in the room.

 

Raja was curled up with her knees to her chest in the antique armchair, its bleached-wood crest making a sort of flourishing crown behind her head. Smoke curled its way from between her lips, slowly creeping up her face and fading away into the already-hazy air. Her hair hung loose around her face, falling in a raven-black fan across her chest that startlingly contrasted the starched white of her nightgown, out of the end of which her bare legs stuck, feet covered only by lace-edged, grass-stained socks.

 

Next to her was Raven, lounging across a tattered loveseat, idly picking at the exposed foam on the corner of a cushion. Her bare feet were up on the other armrest, long legs splayed in a way that made her nightgown fall back to her hips, draped perfectly to cover her up just enough. In her hand, clutched to her chest like a buried pharaoh her crook and flail, was a silver flask, long empty. Eyes half-closed, blankly focused on the glowing ember between Raja's fingers, she was a picture of stillness, every blond curl perfectly in place. The only thing that moved was her chest with every slow, slow breath.

 

Just beyond her was Max, primly perched with one elbow on the wooden armrest of the bench, once painted white but mostly chipped and scuffed to a dull brown. Everything about her was orderly and neat, from her silver-blonde hair scraped back into a perfect bun, to her nightgown, buttoned to the throat and snowy-white, to her shoes, flawless black leather buckled over white socks that disappeared under ankle-length ruffles. Her face, however, told a different story; glazed eyes and a languid smile spoke of the pills sewn into the hem of her jacket, lined up one-by-one with methodical precision only she could manage with ever-slow fingers and an always-glassy gaze.

 

An unlit cigarette between her lips, Katya took up the middle of the bench, the circles under her eyes ghastly in the faint bare-bulb's glow. Across her lap lay Max's jacket, a section of ungracefully ripped-open hem draped between slack fingers. Her head was tilted backwards, dropped back against the wall, eyes unfocusedly half-open. One foot tapped softly against the floor, almost too quiet to be heard, an unconscious manifestation of the double-time beating of her heart, reflected in blown pupils and quick breaths.

 

Slumped to the side, chin in hand with her weight on the bench's other armrest, sat Adore. Ash was spilled across her lap, staining her white gown with specks and smears of grey, and the butt of a cigarette was between her fingers, held to her lips as if she could still draw smoke from it. Reddened, half-closed eyes roamed around the room slowly, a sort of languorous, weary smile pulling at the corners of her lips, delicately toeing the line of being a grimace.

 

Connected at the lips, pressed together so solidly they hardly could be counted as two separate people but more as one shared identity, were Sharon and Alaska, the latter's long blond hair falling to shield their faces. Every moment they spent like this was priceless to them, the shared safety of the circle of girls and the basement casting a bubble of safety around their desperate contact, stolen from under the noses of every effort made to keep them apart otherwise. But that was another matter for another time, because the sky-bound highs they rode drew them only closer, euphoria mixing in their veins - nothing existed, to them, beyond their purloined closeness.

 

Obviously dismissing the girls joined at the hips and lips next to her, Willam sat cross-legged in a makeshift seat built from a milk crate, boards, and a couch cushion, absentmindedly picking at her nails. In the space between her legs lay a flask identical to Raven's, carelessly upside-down, its cap on the ground in front of her, discarded in a fit of annoyance upon the discovery that there existed a bottom to the silver-sided metal. Of the group, she seemed the most alert, wide eyes flitting to the door and back as if she was worried the lock might turn by some otherworldly force, a personification of shadow-dreams that called the flask to her lips.

 

The final pair that completed the circle of ten were tucked away into the corner of the room, tangled together in a silent heap of limbs that somehow fit within the confines of the twin to raja's armchair. Though it was hard to pick out exactly who was who and how they were woven together, it seemed as though Violet had originally been perched atop Pearl's lap, but the two had long since twisted and settled so they somehow shared the barely-cushioned seat, perhaps too engrossed in their fingertip exploration of each other, watching themselves trace curling lines on the other's skin with heavy-lidded, glassy eyes, to care.

 

A whisper of a voice carried across the room, warning of the sun that laid in rest just beyond the horizon, and a collective sigh swept across after it. Raja was the first to stand, scuffing the glowing ember out with her heel and moving to unlock the door with slow, fumbling fingers. She moved as if through molasses, weary at the prospect of leaving the little room and its safety. However temporary it was in actuality, they all felt as though the dim basement welcomed them with open arms every time they snuck away to its shelter, as if it promised sanctuary for the rest of their days. One by one, the other girls stood, the pairs separating only hesitantly, refusing to break contact entirely until it was absolutely necessary. Violet's arm stayed firmly around Pearl's waist, but whether it was to hold her close or keep her upright, it wasn't clear - perhaps both. The ten of them were all slouched over, feet dragging with every dreaded step. Raja lead the way with her chin high, unwilling to walk as if she was defeated, but the tiredness showed in her eyes and the way her shoulders curled forward the second she stopped holding herself up for everyone else. Sharon and Alaska shared one last lingering kiss just before they passed through the door, clutching each others' hands as they followed the rest of the group up the stairs, each step a mountain to climb.

 

By the time they made it outside, they were single-file, heads down and steps even slower than before. The razor-sharp wind bit their skin, snaring itself in their hair and whipping their nightgowns around their ankles, and slowly but surely, the somber parade snaked its way back to the white house, its paint perfect and well-kept, empty window-boxes hanging below each window but one. To the one they walked, and Raja stopped just before it, turning to cast one last look across the solemn line of girls, then up to the sky, before resigning herself to the necessary task of sliding the window open silently. One by one, with Raja's help, the girls climbed back inside, slipping through the window and clustering around to help pull the next girl in. At last, Raja hoisted herself up, taking hold of Willam's hand to pull herself through. When her feet were securely on the ground, she looked over the group with a tiny, sad smile. Collectively, they took one silent, final breath of the fresh air before she slid the window shut and locked it. Shoulders slumped, the ragtag group dispersed through the hall, white gowns moving eerily as if each inebriated girl was a phantom, drearily returning to the place from which they came.


	2. LUST

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There is an utter sort of monotony to a room full of people speaking in unison, reciting words so burned to their brains that all conscious thought had skip-danced through the open window in the back of the room, flying away on the wings of the sparrow that dared not attempt to sing its song over the chanting voices._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has no real trigger warnings, but it's safe to say that you probably shouldn't be reading this fic if you're triggered by heavy discussion of alcohol/drug abuse, general abuse, homophobia, violence, and the like.

i.

LUST.

 

There is an utter sort of monotony to a room full of people speaking in unison, reciting words so burned to their brains that all conscious thought had skip-danced through the open window in the back of the room, flying away on the wings of the sparrow that dared not attempt to sing its song over the chanting voices. It was a short reprieve, really, for the room of girls, the only sort of wholeness they were allowed as they kneeled in two rows, hands folded in their laps and heads bowed. The rhythmic, meaningless words they spoke as one allowed for thought, to an extent, and fairly often was a vehicle for pointed glances sent between the kneeling girls.

 

When the opened window brought freezing air through it one crisp, sterile morning when the world had donned its own white gown, two empty spaces made for nothing but weary silence, fear filling the remaining eights' eyes. Their lips moved in unison and their voices rose and fell evenly as the glances flickered among them, panicked little shards asking unanswerable questions and receiving only helpless despair in return.

 

The last words faded out, the sudden silence disheartening and vulnerable. Fluidly, mechanically, She rose from her kneel front and center, turning to face the girls. Not a single one raised her head or so much as her eyes, waiting for the curt order to rise as a single unit, heads still bowed and eyes downcast, hands held carefully to their sides. She walked past them, heels _click-click_ ing, and the eight followed behind a beat later, falling into single-file and moving to fill the gaps where Sharon and Alaska would normally be.

 

"What happened to them?" whispered Violet to the back of Pearl's head as she brought up the tail end of the column, quietly enough that only the blonde could hear the terror in her voice, "I've not seen hide nor hair of either since sunrise."

 

She lifted a shoulder in silent response, tucking a hand behind her back, fingers outstretched. Violet curled her fingers into the offering, and Pearl squeezed them for a half-second before pulling away - to risk any longer was a risking a cardinal sin in Her eyes. The line entered the dining-room, a muted, simple room, and they split into their original two lines to arrange themselves behind their chairs along either side of the long table. Automatically, they joined hands, chins dipping to meet their chest as She cleared her throat.

 

A few simple words in Her iron voice filled the small room, followed by the soft whisper of eight voices echoing, before the chairs scraped back in unison and the eight sat. She turned on Her heel and left the room, closing the door behind her. The silence that followed for several seconds was the sort of heavy that settled like dust in the bottoms of every girl's lungs, making each breath so deliberate and careful so as not to upset it.

 

"They got caught together."

 

Raja finally broke the silence, her whisper preceding an explosion of hushed gasps and murmurs, eyes wide and shock evident on every face in the room.

 

"Shouldn'ta been in the same room," Willam declared softly, leaning back in her chair with a knee against the table's edge, "that's askin' for it, if you ask me. Wait like the rest of us, an' shit wouldn'ta gone down."

 

"That's why nobody asked you," Pearl fired back, eyes darting across the table to the other blonde, frowning.

 

"Nobody's askin' you either, clamshell."

 

"Alright, let's not fight," interjected Raja, tapping a slender finger on the tabletop, "does anyone know where they are?"

 

"She started it, saying stupid shit like that--" Violet laid a hand on Pearl's arm, and she cut herself off, leaning back in her chair as the two shared a look.

 

"It's true!"

 

"Both of you shut up!" Raven's sharp hiss quieted the whole room, and she paused for a moment before continuing. "I heard someone talking outside during prayer, but I couldn't make out what they were saying."

 

"I heard it too," Adore said, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug, "it sounded like Alaska."

 

Max nodded in agreement, drumming her fingers nervously.

 

"They'll probably be back s--"

 

Sharp _click-click_ ing footsteps sounded in the hall beyond the door, and immediately, everyone straightened, tense silence falling across the room like a smothering blanket. When several long seconds passed with no further noise, Raja lifted a hand to get the group's attention, mouthing _She's listening_.

 

"Whatever may have happened was surely needed, and will only help," said Max, loud enough to be audible from beyond the door, her tone stiff and words halting, painfully formal.

 

"Most certainly," concurred Violet, her tone even more impossibly rigid, "I trust they're in good care, and that's all that should matter."

 

A round of agreements went up from the other girls.

 

"Enough chatter. Who would like to recite?" Raja looked around the table, expecting someone to take up her offer, as She would expect.

 

"I will," Katya piped up, and almost as an exclamation point to her words, the footsteps _click-click_ ed away.

 

The relief was palpable as soon as they were out of earshot.

 

"I thought she'd never leave!"

 

"I thought I was actually going to have to start rattling off bible verses!"

 

"Raja," Willam cut through the quiet hubbub, everyone else falling silent as she leaned forward to eye the girl she'd addressed, "when're we goin' back out? It's been _two weeks_."

 

"When the--"

 

"I'm almost out."

 

"Like the rest of us aren't?" Pearl snapped at her, visibly fuming again. Violet's hand on her shoulder did nothing to stop her from leaning forward, veritably spitting fire at Willam. "You're not the fucking queen bee. The rest of us are having just as shitty a time as you are!"

 

"Shut up, princess, before someone decides to really show you a goddamn hard time. Mommy and Daddy can't save your ass here."

 

"Oh _please_ , like little miss I-get-whatever-I-want-because-my-boyfriend-is-fifty-and-loaded has to work for jack _shit_."

 

"Cut it out. Both of you."

 

"Fourty-seven, _actually_ , and I only married him to legally get out from under my parents. Check it, bitch, at least I'm accomplishing more than sitting around fucking all the girls within ten miles."

 

"I did NOT--"

 

"--so did!"

 

"Enough!"

 

Raja slammed a fist down on the table, and both Willam and Pearl froze, looking at her with wide eyes.

 

"I don't care how much you two hate each other, I'm sick and tired of hearing you both bicker constantly!"

 

Violet squeezed Pearl's arm, and she sat back, scowling. Willam kept her mouth shut as well, leaning back in her seat and putting her knee back up on the table. The entire room was shocked silent, staring at Raja like her head had just done a full circle atop her shoulders.

 

"Do you think She heard that?" Raven's whisper was almost inaudible, and Raja lifted a shoulder in response, her mouth set in a hard line and her closed fist still on the table.

 

"I hope not," Max barely breathed, but the sudden sharp sound of _click-click_ ing heels moving much louder than usual didn't bode well. Raja swallowed hard, putting her hand in her lap and bowing her head, the rest of the girls following suit as the ominous footsteps _click_ ed closer.


End file.
